May Contain Spies: A Spy Thriller (Meet Abby Banks Book 1) (14 page)

“Who is that?” I asked, glancing from screen to screen in awe as we passed fish and all sorts of other creatures.

“I’d tell you, but I’d have to kill you,” she said as an image of her face popped into the top left corner of the submarine and grinned at me.

I glared at her picture, and she laughed. “Well so far, this is going better than my original submarine escape,” I said.

“Good,” she said. “We’ll be there before you know it, and then, a few hours from now, we’ll be lounging on a beach while you watch me drink Mai Tais because you’re too young to drink.”

“Jerk,” I said, rubbing my face with my hands.

“Hey, I’m not all bad. If we make it out of this, I’ll let you have a sip of mine.” She smiled at me. “I’ll chalk it up to a bad parent moment.”

Chapter 13

We surfaced a couple hours later next to an immense cruise liner. My mother ‘docked’ the orca next to a ladder on the hull, and we climbed straight up the side of the ship without incident which seemed a little odd, but then again, I guess the captain of this cruise didn’t expect to be boarded by whale people.

We hit the deck a moment later, and I was surprised to find myself staring at a bunch of old fogeys lounging in lawn chairs around a pool. A mariachi band played in the corner next to a huge bar crowded with people in various states of sunburn. I took a step toward them, fascinated as a particularly spry old lady in a bright red bikini exploded out of a water slide and skipped across the pool before plunging beneath the surface in a spray of foam.

“Come on, Abby,” my mom said, grabbing my hand and tugging me gently along the path. “Let’s get changed so that we don’t stick out so much.”

“Get changed,” I whispered, and somehow, my words squeaked out of my mouth. “How are we going to get changed on a random ship?” I asked and a lightbulb went off in my head as I glanced back over the railing toward the submarine. “Are there clothes in the whale?”

My mother looked at me like I was very dull. “I purchased a couple of rooms onboard the ship before it left. It has clothing and other things stashed inside.”

“When did you manage to do that?” I asked. “I haven’t even been gone that long, have I?”

“Abby, the moment I found out what happened, I decided to come rescue you. I know I shouldn’t have done so… but well,” she looked away from me, “I’ll be honest, I’ve had a contingency like this in place for the last couple of months. Ever since we found out Gabriella was actively trying to find you, I’ve been buying rooms on cruise ships.”

“So… you’ve been planning to go rogue with me? Why?” I asked, staring at her.

“Because I want you to be safe, Abby. I know you’re struggling with things, but I didn’t trust the agency,” she replied. “Now that you’re here with me, I know you’re safe.”

“What if someone finds out you set this up? Won’t they come straight here?” I said, suddenly worried. “If you’ve taken me off the radar, and Hawthorne didn’t show, wouldn’t the most obvious place in the world to look for me be on the cruise ship where you booked rooms?”

My mother bit her lip, chewing on a thought I was sure she’d had a couple times. “Yes…” she murmured. That’s why we’re going to get off at the next port. It’s only about an hour away. “Besides, I set Jonas to sink to the bottom of the ocean and await further instructions. If they do attack this ship, we can escape in the submarine.”

“Assuming Jonas doesn’t have some kind of tracker on it, and men with guns aren’t on their way here right now,” I said, following along behind my mother as she led us into a hallway and down some stairs until we reached a door. “That was how Stephen found me after all. He used Chloe’s tracker. If you guys go through the trouble to put trackers on people, I find it hard to believe there wouldn’t be one on a submarine.”

“That’s why I sent Jonas to the bottom of the ocean,” she replied, swinging the door open, and the most completely ordinary looking hotel room I’d ever seen stared back at me.

It had two beds that took up nearly the entirety of the room. A suitcase sat on each bed, and I smirked, glancing at my mom and blushing. “You brought my zebra-case,” I said as I walked over and ran my hands over the fabric. “How did you manage that?”

“I’ve been stashing luggage in the rooms I bought. I just move it from ship to ship,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll admit I hoped you wouldn’t actually have to use it, but now I’m glad I thought ahead.”

I opened the case, and grinned as I pulled out my most favorite pink bikini. It was two shades of pink and had silver fringe so that it flashed as I moved when I wore it. I glanced up to see my mother shut the bathroom door, leaving me alone for the first time in well… I wasn’t sure how long.

I gripped my bikini tightly in my hands and sat down on the bed, enjoying the feel of it. I took a breath and lay backward across it so that my feet dangled off the edge. I was suddenly so tired that I could barely keep my eyes open.

A moment later, my mom opened the door and smiled at me. She was wearing a black and white one-piece with a little dress type thing around the waist that made me think of a maid. “What do you think?” she asked a moment later, biting her lip as she stared at me. “Is it too much?”

“I’m not sure,” I replied. “Are there millionaires looking for French maids on this ship?”

She narrowed her eyes at me and sashayed forward, grabbing a robe off a hook and slipping it around herself. “I don’t know why I ever ask you anything,” she said, sitting next to me. “I’m going to go get us some food while you get changed. Do not let anyone inside. If something happens,” she swallowed, “there’s a gun in your suitcase. It’s very easy to use, and the safety is off so don’t play with it. If something happens, just keep shooting and I’ll come get you. I promise.”

With that, she stood and walked to the door. She turned back at me and smiled. “I love you, Abby,” she said and shut the door.

I stood and bolted the door behind her, locking both the lock and the little security chain that everyone always breaks in a second in the movies. I turned and took a couple steps toward the bed and laid the bikini down on top of the white comforter. I stared at it and smirked. Originally, I hadn’t actually wanted the thing, but since I’d been invited to my first pool party at the beginning of last summer, Lisa Ann had insisted I wear something a little more risqué than the crimson one-piece I always wore during junior lifeguards.

Against my better judgment, I had complied and let her drag me to the mall where she had piled my arms high with swimsuits that seemed to have a price inversely proportional to the amount of fabric involved. Eventually, I had chosen the pink one because out of everything she had picked, it didn’t make me feel slutty.

I shrugged and grabbed it off the bed as I moved to the teeniest, tiniest bathroom I’d ever been in. I set the bikini on the sink and reached back to undo the zipper on my super-spy wetsuit. It was, basically, the hardest thing I’d ever had to remove. I kicked it angrily into the corner with my mother’s suit and pulled on my bikini. I glanced at myself in the mirror.

I certainly didn’t look like I would be the object of an international manhunt by spies, government agencies, and terrorists. I ran a hand through my hair and turned away from the mirror. I grabbed the remaining robe off the hook, and as I pulled it on, I made my way back into the room. Sitting there on the table next to my mom’s bed was her super-spy ring, and without thinking, I picked it up, examining it closely. Just holding it made chills run through me.

It was so dangerous, but right now, it seemed so innocuous. I hadn’t really been able to do a lot to protect myself thus far, and as the ring glittered in my hand, the urge to face my fears became overwhelming. I stuck it on my finger, and when I didn’t evaporate, I let out a sigh of relief.

“Okay, now what?” I asked myself as I surveyed the tiny room with its pictures of seagulls and surfers lining the walls. “Mom really should have just waited for me,” I mumbled a moment later as I found myself sitting on my bed.

A minute went by as I sat there on my bed waiting for her. Then an hour. Then four hours. Then a month.

I grumbled and glanced at the digital clock beside my bed. “Okay, maybe it’s only been four minutes since I sat down, but it feels like a month.” I shook my head. “And why do I keep talking to myself?”

I stood and moved to my suitcase, kneeling down next to it and rummaging around until I found what I was looking for. The gun was small and compact, all silver-gunmetal with a black grip. I wasn’t sure what kind of caliber it was or anything, but near as I could tell, it was fully loaded. I picked it up and held it in my hands, pointing it at one particularly spry-looking painted surfer.

“Bang,” I said, making a movement with my hand before swallowing hard. What if it went off and ricocheted? Or worse, pieced the wall and killed some bikini-clad senior? I cursed myself for being so stupid and shoved it back in my suitcase and covered it with panties because who wanted to dig through panties, right?

I glanced back at the clock. It’d only been two more minutes. I let out a sigh as I sprang from the bed and glanced back at the bathroom. Should I shower? No, that was silly. We were going to a pool. If anything, I might need to rinse off, but I wasn’t going to saunter through the halls dripping wet, and besides, my mom was coming back with food. I wouldn’t want to be all wet when she got here and have it get cold while I finished my shower or got re-dressed.

“Maybe I should go find her?” I asked the clock, and felt a small pit of terror well up in my stomach. That was exactly how horror movies started, or how girls got re-kidnapped. No, I was not leaving this room unless I had my mom with me.

The knock at the door made me leap out of my skin, and I spun toward the door, heart hammering away inside my chest. I glanced at my suitcase and dove across the room, tossing the panties aside and ripping the gun free. I spun, bringing it up toward the door in shaking hands as the locks clicked open.

“Abby?” my mom asked as she swung the door open with her knee. She was balancing a huge platter with a lid over it. Her eyes went wide when she saw me, then her lips quirked into a smile. “May I come in?” she asked.

I exhaled slowly, trying to get my nerves under control as I lowered the gun and stared at the floor, sheepishly. “Yes,” I said. “Sorry… I’m just a little on edge.”

“I can see that,” she replied, closing the door and stepping up to me in one stride that somehow let her put the platter down on the tiny bedside table and reach me. She reached out very slowly and pulled the gun from my hands. “But you shouldn’t point guns at people you don’t intend to shoot.”

I swallowed, still not looking at her. The truth was, I was pretty sure I was going to shoot whoever came through that door. That was a little unsettling. Since when was I a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ kind of girl anyway? I shook my head, brushing my eyes with the back of one hand. Since when was I a shoot at all kind of girl?

When I looked up, my mother was staring at me, emerald green eyes squinted up in a look I had never seen on her face before. It made me shiver because it felt like she was reading my thoughts. She turned, looking away and setting the gun down beside the platter. She pulled the lid off the tray and showed it to me.

“I got calamari and nachos,” she said. “Everything our hips need.”

I smirked at her and reached out to take a deep-fried tentacle. I pushed it into some kind of thick white sauce and popped it into my mouth. It tasted mostly like lemon and mayonnaise, and I shrugged at her as she pulled a cheese-covered tortilla chip free and placed it delicately in her mouth. Yeah, that’s right. My mom could make eating nachos look dainty.

“Okay,” I said after swallowing. “Are we going to talk about how I just tried to gun you down for opening the door?”

“No,” my mother said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand even though there hadn’t been anything on her lips. “I expected that, actually. I also sort of expected you to come try to find me. I’ve been waiting outside for five minutes.”

“You thought I was that stupid?” I asked, my voice rising a couple octaves. “Wait, you were baiting me?”

“I was going to make a point,” she said. “But I guess I don’t need to do that.” She smiled at me and reached out, pulling me into a hug that crushed me against her chest. I blushed and tried to wriggle away from her, and after a moment of holding me in place, she let me escape.

“Okay, let’s eat,” I said, turning toward the platter so that she couldn’t see my face because I was sort of embarrassed with myself. She had just risked her life to save me, and I was blushing because she was hugging me? Talk about ungrateful.

“Okay,” she repeated, sitting down next to me on the bed and pulling the platter onto her knees. “I bet you’re hungry anyway.”

A few minutes later, I slid the platter away even though it was still covered in all sorts of half-eaten fried delicacies. “I’m stuffed,” I said.

“It’s about time,” my mother said with a smirk. “I thought I was watching some sort of ravenous sea-creature with a bottomless stomach.”

Before I could respond, she stood, lifting the platter up and delicately balancing it over her head with one hand. “Ready to hit the pool?” she asked. “Or are you too tired?”

“Sure,” I replied, stretching out before bounding to my feet. “But aren’t you supposed to wait twenty minutes or something?”

“That is an old wives’ tale,” my mother said, grabbing the door and pulling it open.

Two staccato cracks exploded through the room in quick succession, and my mother tumbled backward in a spray of crimson, the silver platter slipping from her hands and hitting the ground with a clang that spilled food everywhere.

Everything in me went numb as I watched her hit the ground in slow motion. My ears were still ringing as she turned, throwing herself on her stomach and crawled toward me, teeth biting down on her lips. She reached one hand toward the table, lips moving, but I couldn’t hear her. My head swiveled woodenly, staring at the table uncomprehending. The gun was there, huge and ominous. Was that what my mom was reaching for?